


Rebirth

by menecio



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Blanket Permission, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Reincarnation, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24900307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menecio/pseuds/menecio
Summary: Ratchet names him Orion.
Relationships: Optimus Prime & Ratchet, Orion Pax & Ratchet
Comments: 17
Kudos: 66





	Rebirth

Ratchet names him Orion. That’s who he is—or rather who should have been. Even if Orion Pax was nothing but an alias to hide the Thirteenth Prime’s identity, Ratchet likes to think that he knew both the librarian and the leader well enough to know what designation he would have preferred. His friend had never been one for lavish titles, never enjoyed the pomp and circumstance that seemed to chase after him like scraplets chased after warm metal. No, his friend had been a quiet mech. Strong of character, without a doubt, but also retiring and conciliatory.

Hence Orion.

And Orion seems to agree, clicking up at him in utter contentment whenever he hears his name. Ratchet wonders if he remembers, if he is a grown cybertronian in an infant’s frame, but the exhaustive studies he has performed on the youngspark yield only average data. Orion is Orion.

Except he isn’t. The energy readings of his lifeforce couldn’t be farther away from those of a regular newling. It should be a small hurricane of lightning, like a young galaxy unfurling, but instead it’s even and pulsing as if it had already been around million upon billions upon trillions of years. This is an ancient spark. More so, it is Orion Pax’s spark, Optimus’s spark, an Original Prime’s spark.

Ratchet worries about how much that might affect Orion. It’s in his nature to fret, but he finds that he is beside himself with worry where the youngspark is concerned. Act of habit, he supposes. Orion gives him bemused looks, but doesn’t seem to mind the attention.

Of course, Ratchet still thinks he isn’t the best option to be Orion’s mentor. Someone else should be filling the role. Bulkhead offered, but he spends too much time near explosives and construction sites for anyone—himself included—to really consider him as mentor material. Wheeljack _is_ explosives, not to mention irresponsible and ill-suited for mentorship, so he is out of the question. Smokescreen and Knock Out aren’t actual options either. Busy and distant as he is, neither is Ultra Magnus.

Maybe Arcee could do it. Perhaps even Bumblebee, if it weren’t for the fact that it would be more than a little emotionally taxing for the scout to raise the mech who, for all intents and purposes, raised him. He is compromised. Then again, they all are. Or at least those Team Prime would trust with Orion are. That doesn’t leave them with a lot of options. It leaves them with none, in fact, considering that they really only trust one another.

So for the time being, Ratchet is what is best for Orion. Despite all his baggage, he has medical training and some experience with youngsparks who don’t come online as fully-operational adult frames—not a lot, mind you, but enough to leave the others in the dust. Ratchet is sure some of the team members never even saw a youngling until the war ended.

“You need that,” he grumbles, pointing at a tiny spanner that could never tighten a single bolt. Orion gives a small grateful cheep and picks up the toy. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

They’re sitting on the floor, Ratchet is leaning back on his hands, legs splayed out before him as makeshift fences-slash-rails for the tottering youngspark. Orion’s gyroscopic sensors haven’t finished attuning yet, so he tends to grab Ratchet’s knee-guards when he starts wobbling. A part of Ratchet hopes Orion’s gyros will take a long time to settle.

The youngspark uses the spanner as if it were a hammer. He gives the thing he is ‘building’ a series of gentle taps, then nods and makes a sound that Ratchet supposes means the tool performed its function satisfactorily. Setting the spanner down, Orion makes a little happy sound. Clearly, it was just what his vaguely square-shaped pile of mismatched metal parts needed. He hadn’t actually had any use for the spanner, but Ratchet likes to put things forward for consideration and see what Orion does with his suggestions. More often than not, Orion listens to him. It makes Ratchet feel melancholic and warm.

Orion looks up at him and smiles. Ratchet smiles back, but his expression turns into a scowl when the youngspark picks up a small box. It’s full of small trinkets that tend to roll under the furniture at the earliest opportunity, and the earliest opportunity tends to present itself often—Orion enjoys upending the box. Ratchet had to move the heavy cabinets he keeps in the living room just yesterday in order to retrieve all the damn pieces.

“Don’t you even think about it,” he warns.

Orion gives a soft whirr, optics large and innocent as he looks at Ratchet. He hugs the box to his chest. The lid is retracted, and a few pieces fall out.

“Watch it,” Ratchet says, pointing at the box. Orion straightens it, still looking at him with those bright optics of his. He gives another soft whirr, this one with a dejected air to it. Ratchet levels him with a mock glare, unable to fight off the smile that takes over his face. “Don’t give me that, you rascal.”

Orion smiles too, perhaps in reply to Ratchet’s own smile, perhaps recognising the playful tone in Ratchet’s words. He chirps and warbles, expression turning mischievous as he slowly begins to cant the box. Ratchet raises an optic ridge.

“I’m not picking it up.”

Orion stops, considers his options, and deflates. He doesn’t seem to like the idea of rounding up all the small pieces of metal after they have scattered. Smart kid. The crisis has been averted. Ratchet feels kind of bad, though. He pushes off his hands and leans forward, legs shifting into more of a bracketing shape rather than an acute angle. From the floor, he picks up a random metal block and offers it to Orion.

“Why don’t you use this instead?”

Orion extends a small hand and grabs the block. He inspects it, a serious and painfully familiar frown taking over his features for a moment. Then he sets down the box and, after some deliberating, adds the block Ratchet gave him to his construction. Obviously pleased, he beams up at Ratchet, but then blinks and frowns.

Ratchet realises he must look like someone punched him through the chest and ripped out his spark-casing. He tries to pretend like everything’s all right. Orion doesn’t seem fooled. He totters over and reaches up, tiny hands resting flat against Ratchet’s face. The little trill that escapes him is inquiring. Ratchet leans forward until his forehead presses against Orion’s.

“I’m fine,” he lies. “Just fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in June 2016, damn. I decided to post it after a quick reread. I love Ratchet...


End file.
